


Neither Fish nor Fowl

by LadysMaid



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 10:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadysMaid/pseuds/LadysMaid
Summary: Romance, Alfie Solomons style.Shameless Tommy/Alfie lemon, because I felt there was a market for it. There's really no excuse. Non-con warning for some manhandling some people may find upsetting.Slight S3 spoilers, I guess!





	Neither Fish nor Fowl

He looked ridiculous. The burly man across the desk. The unkempt beard. The white scarf. And then those ridiculous little eyeglasses on the chain. 

 Thomas sighed and sat back in his chair, bringing his left leg up to rest on his right knee. He poked at the stitches in his shoe. 

 ‘My adding up is _correct_ , Alfie.’ He over-enunciated the consonants in ‘correct’.

 The bearded man looked up, over his glasses, and uttered a grunt. He focused on the paper in front of him again. Great, now he’d probably lost count and Thomas would be there another hour. Might as well enjoy himself a little.

 ‘Didn’t even know you could count,’ Thomas tried. ‘Thought those glasses were for show.’

 There was another glance in his direction, this time accompanied by a little smirk. Thomas took a drag from his cigarette again. They couldn’t have gotten off to a bumpier start, but he trusted Alfie now.  

 ‘Boy, get my associate something to eat so he’ll stop disturbing me,’ Alfie mumbled.

 He had a sing-song way of saying things. As if he wasn’t sure how his sentence would end when he started it. Just making it up as he went along. Thomas always chose his words carefully. He sat up at once and held up a hand to keep the young man from running off and getting him food. Thomas was a picky eater, didn’t like meat cooked by strangers. His objections were futile though. The boy was smart enough to listen to Alfie Solomons.

 Thomas took another sip and leaned back again.

 ‘Jus’ making sure, Tommy.’ He didn’t look up this time. He coughed and got back to his reading. ‘I know your kind.’ 

 Thomas didn’t take it as an insult. He sat and smoked in silence, thumbing the tumbler in his other hand. Alfie sat at his spartan desk, hunched over his paperwork. Behind him, rows and rows of books lined the walls. Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he’d read anything other than newspapers and numbers. He wondered what all those books were. Did Alfie Solomons curl up in bed with a novel after dinner?

 

At the thought of dinner, it arrived. A different boy, slightly younger and wearing a white apron, came through the glass office doors and set a plate down on Thomas’ side of the desk. He handed him silverware and a cloth napkin. Looking at him from the large plate was a whole fish, head and all. It had apparently been smoked. On the side lay three small, carefully peeled potatoes. There was a dollop of some kind of white relish. 

 ‘ _Beteavon_ ,’ Alfie nodded and gestured him to start eating, again without looking up. Thomas nodded back, assuming he was telling him to enjoy. If Alfie'd just told Thomas to go fuck himself in Hebrew, he’d honestly be none the wiser. Thomas pulled his chair up and put the napkin in his lap. He peeled the skin of the fish back, revealing the pale meat. He pushed a forkful off the bone and dragged it through the relish before tasting. It was surprisingly delicate, compared to the man in front of him. He cleared his throat and subconsciously hovered closer over his plate as he took another bite, this time loading a piece of potato onto his fork. 

 ‘Good huh?’

 Thomas nodded, as his mouth was too full to reply. He wasn’t used to having a real sit-down dinner. He was usually too busy. Either that or he’d come up with some other excuse so he wouldn’t have to sit down at a table on his own. This time he actually had some company, kind of. 

 

He was halfway through his potatoes when he noticed Alfie had taken off his glasses. He was observing him, seemingly amused. For a fleeting moment, Thomas wondered if he’d been poisoned. Another moment passed and he realized he didn’t really care, because he still had half a fish left.

 ‘D’you get lonely then, without the missus?’ Alfie sounded uncharacteristically profound. He always wore this silly worried frown on his forehead. Thomas lifted one shoulder in reply, glad that his mouth was full. 

 ‘What about you,' he retorted. He'd never seen or even heard of a lady in Alfie's life. Alfie shrugged. 

 ‘They set me up with little pale girl a decade back. I told them thanks,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘I was too busy back then. And never really interested in them.’ He dropped the chain on his glasses in the palm of his hand and pocketed the glasses. 

 Thomas chewed and swallowed before the words sank in. When they did, Thomas clicked his tongue.

 ‘Alfie _fucking_ Solomons.’ He shook his head. 

 Alfie shrugged and folded his hands over his abdomen, clearly at ease. 

 ‘The numbers are right; you’re eating my food. I think there’s trust here, Tommy,’ he said. ‘Besides, I’ve heard enough about you.’

 Thomas put his fork down. His ears rang for a split second before his hearing returned. 

 ‘What’d you hear?’

 Not that it wasn’t true. He’d just never expected the news to travel. Men usually weren’t proud of this preference and no one had ever profited off of gossiping about the Shelby Clan. The truth was that Thomas had just never really _cared_. As a young boy, he’d been determined to marry Arthur. He admired him, he liked him, felt safe around him. That seemed like enough reason to get married. His mother had pulled him in her lap and explained he couldn’t marry his brother. As a compromise, Thomas had offered to marry Freddie instead. His father had shouted at him for that, and told him he would grow up to marry a rosy-cheeked girl and that would be the end of it. Little Tommy had quite liked that thought too. Thomas enjoyed a nice cut of meat, but this piece of fish was very enjoyable indeed. 

 Thomas sat back as well, mirroring Alfie’s position.

 ‘I know some men who know you. Or have known you. Briefly,’ Alfie spoke with his own strange intonation. The man had just admitted to something that would get him beat up in any pub in London. And now it sounded like _he_ was accusing Thomas. Thomas scratched the buzz cut behind his ear. It wasn’t often that he was unsure how a conversation would end. He took a long drag from his cigarette and shrugged again. He didn’t need to explain himself. Thomas wouldn’t say he slept around. Not with men, nor with women. He was as picky about his partners as he was about his food. He’d first experienced a man during the war. It was cold and wet and they had needed to keep warm. It came natural to him. They’d kissed and touched and warmed each other. Thomas had never felt guilt or shame about it. Still, it wasn’t something he was used to speaking so freely about. 

 

Alfie had gotten up from his chair. He brought his drink with him, and dragged Thomas’ plate away from the edge of his desk. He leaned back against it and took a sip. He was calm. Thomas was confused, but not uneasy.

 Alfie Solomons wasn’t a very tall man, not taller than Thomas anyway. Thomas guessed he probably outweighed him by forty pounds or so. He wasn’t fat though. Where Thomas was more lean, Alfie was built wider. His nose was broader. His face manlier than Thomas'. Warmer in colour. His eyes looked small compared to his strong brow and bushy beard. It occurred to Thomas that he’d been eyeing the man in front of him for a while now, and realized how that might come across in this context.

 Without further warning, Alfie leaned in and put his thumb on Thomas’ chin. He gave him a quick peck on the lips and pulled back again. He seemed quite pleased with himself.

 ‘So how long have you been planning this, eh? Dining me, keeping me here after hours,’ Thomas questioned. He felt flattered. He got his cigarettes from his pocket and picked one out with his lips. He had never thought about Alfie Solomons in that respect, but he wasn’t offended, not at all. 

 ‘A while now,’ Alfie admitted. He lit Thomas’ cigarette with a silver lighter. He cleared his throat, though not in a nervous way. ‘You know you’re good-looking. Smart. Nimble.’ _Keep talking_ , Thomas thought to himself. 'Nimble' was not a compliment he got every day. Alfie took another sip. He placed the back of his hand against Thomas’ cheek and dragged his forefinger over his cheekbone.  It seemed as though he’d let the dog sniff his hand, and he’d now decided the dog was not going to bite. ‘Those eyes.’ He shook his head and whistled between his teeth. ‘Like fresh spring water.'

 Thomas still felt at ease. In charge even. He had not moved so far. He’d not returned any compliments, but felt flattered at how Alfie was courting him. He was shooting his shot. Thomas had to applaud him for that. From a business point of view, this was a good deal. They would meet on a regular basis either way. Plus, this would protect them from ratting each other out. From a human point of view, Thomas had to admit his cheeks were burning. 

 

Thomas put out his cigarette in the big ashtray on the desk and leaned back in his chair, thinking how to reciprocate. He reached a hand up and flicked his thumb at the button of the man’s trousers, undoing them. This apparently caught him off guard. He had nothing to say, for once. He was wearing braces, so his trousers stayed up. Thomas never broke eye contact, only half blinking. Alfie took that as a cue. He leaned forward again, kissing Thomas harder this time. He used his whole hand to grab Thomas’ jaw. Thomas reached into his pants. A shiver went through him to find the man in front of him already hard. His jaw twitched.

 ‘A man of few words, Tommy Shelby,’ Alfie breathed against his lips. Thomas’ heart felt like it was in his throat. It never wore off, the excitement of discovering someone new. Apart from smoke and liquor, Alfie smelled surprisingly soapy. He really had come prepared. 

 ‘We’re big boys, I figured I’d take the liberty.’ 

 A breathy laugh escaped Alfie’s lips.

 ‘Oh, you did,’ he sighed. Alfie leaned back again and allowed Thomas to slip his braces off his shoulders. He stroked his cock a few times before lowering the man’s pants. He was thick, and he was cut. His own pants grew tighter as he ran his fingers over a vein that ran from the base of his cock to the tip. 'Show me what those lips do, Tommy Shelby,' Alfie hummed. 

 He sounded so serious Thomas couldn’t help but laugh. 

 ‘Can you stop using my whole name?’ 

 ‘Fuck no. I’ve got to _have_ Tommy Shelby,’ he emphasized. 

 Thomas had to admit it stirred something in him. For once someone wanting to have him didn’t involve wanting a bullet in his head. He slipped off his chair onto his knees. With his trousers pulled taut, it became painfully clear how hard he was, too. 

 ‘ _Fuck_ , those lips-‘ Alfie was still himself, even in this uncharacteristic situation. He let his head drop back dramatically as if he was seeking absolution from someone up there. Thomas wasn’t up to date with how it went for Alfie's kind, but he was certain _his_ search would end in disappointment. 

 Thomas stroked the cock in front of him a couple of times and ran a hand over his own face. He felt himself slipping, desire taking over. He marveled over how much difference that little piece of skin made. Tentatively, he pressed his tongue flat against the bottom of the tip. The reaction was similar. He closed his lips around the head and heard the man towering over him moan. He took that as encouragement and closed his eyes. He knew how to do this. He knew what he liked. He knotted Alfie’s shirt tightly in his left hand and pushed it up, out of the way. His right hand stroked slowly, his lips following. Thomas never understood why so many girls disliked going down there. He enjoyed sucking cock as much as he enjoyed getting his cock sucked. No, that wasn't true. He took in as much as he could, making up for what he lacked with his hand. Alfie's hand came down to rest on the back of his head. First he just used it to guide him. Then he used it to hold Thomas' head in place as he rocked his hips back and forth. He forced Thomas to take in more of his cock than he thought he was comfortable with. He was drooling, had no time to swallow in between. He could still breathe through his nose. This was fine. What made it better were the noises he elicited from the man above him. With every curse, a jolt went through the pit of his stomach.

 ‘Get up, get up,’ Alfie muttered. It was more at himself than anything else, because he was dragging Thomas to his feet whether he liked it or not. Thomas liked the urgency. He failed to suppress a groan when Alfie grabbed him hard through his trousers. ‘Get them off; get fucking naked,’ Alfie hissed.

 Thomas fumbled at his waistcoat. Alfie tugged him back in for a crushing kiss, his hand closing around his throat this time. Thomas loved the possessiveness. It wasn’t often people had their way with him. Alfie’s other hand tugged down his pants until Thomas' cock sprang free, embarrassingly hard. He began stroking it without hesitation, squeezing his hand tighter around his neck. He pulled away, out of reach for Thomas’ lips.

 ‘It’s the sides you wanna get, not the front,’ he muttered, never missing a beat. Thomas tried to swallow. ‘You wanna cut off the blood, not the air.’ Was this a very well thought out assassination? If so, Thomas felt the need to congratulate the dedication. A determined hand on his cock told him otherwise though. ‘Do you see stars, boy?’ Thomas couldn’t think. His legs were no longer supporting his weight. 

 Alfie let go of his throat, only to grab Thomas’ face, looking him straight in the eye. 

 ‘Now, I’m going to sit in my chair, right there, where I work,’ Alfie announced. Thomas nodded along. He would do anything he was told. Sign over the Shelby Company Limited? Probably. ‘And then I want you to fucking sit on me, pretty boy.’

 

 Thomas swallowed. Was that his pride going down? To be honest, he had just gone down himself. But doing it here? In a chair behind his desk, exactly how Thomas would fuck his whores? Would Alfie leave him a couple of pounds on the desk after? He instinctively pulled his head back, out of Alfie’s grip. He cleared his throat again. Despite promising to only cut off his blood flow, his throat felt scratchy. Alfie’s chin dipped in a surprised gesture. 

 Thomas shook his head. He was painfully aware that Alfie had stopped stroking him. He still had a tight grip on his cock, his thumb and forefinger forming a ring around the base. Thomas looked away from his face, towards the double doors. They were half glass. He shook his head again and took a step backwards, out of reach. He wasn't ashamed of himself, but this could cost him his livelihood. He tugged his pants back up, neglecting to button them properly. No one would have Thomas Shelby. He didn’t bother doing up his shirt or waistcoat. He set off for his coat hanging by the door. Alfie was only a step behind him. His trousers still halfway his thighs, held up by one brace over his shoulder. He uttered a series of comforting shushing noises. He quickly caught up with Thomas and pressed him face first against the wall. Gently at first, as if only to stop him from leaving. 

 ‘Shh- Thomas Shelby,’ he shushed again. His weight held Thomas in place. The holster of Thomas’ gun was shoved into his ribs. They were the same height for sure, but Thomas was barely a welterweight, and Alfie outclassed him. He wasn’t rough though. Thomas felt his breath on the back of his neck, his grazing it. ‘ _Shh_ ,’ he repeated, this time into his ear. He ran the tip of his nose down Thomas’ jawline. Thomas could only stare at the wall, so he allowed his eyelids to flutter shut. He could feel the outline of Alfie’s erection in his back. ‘No one waiting at home for you to leave in such a hurry, Tommy.’ He placed kisses where his nose had just passed. Thomas let his head rest against Alfie’s temple. 

 The lips against his neck turned to a smile, and an agile hand pulled his trousers down again. It did’t take much effort; how they were buttoned, Thomas would have probably lost them before he was out on the street again. Alfie began stroking him again in the small space. Thomas’ chest was pushed flat into the wall. The sound of his ragged breathing was amplified against the bricks. He turned his head slightly in search of Alfie’s lips again. Instead, he caught two fingers. He parted his lips, allowing them in.

 ‘Good boy,’ Alfie hummed. Thomas sucked the fingers, hollowing his cheeks. ‘ _Fuck_ \- You’re beautiful,’ Alfie continued. He worked his fingers in and out of his mouth slowly, at the same pace as his hand. The compliments worked better than the orders. Thomas felt like clay in his hands. He shivered when the fingers left his mouth again. They were quickly replaced by crushing lips. Thomas kissed back this time, as far as the awkward position allowed. Alfie ran his right hand down his side and back up, this time under his shirt. It was an oxymoron, his crushing weight and his gentle touch. Thomas arched back involuntarily. Thomas Shelby could take a bullet, but he was ticklish. 

 ‘Jesus _fuck_ , Alfie,’ he sighed. ‘Jus’ fuckin- _Ah_ ’ 

 Thomas grunted as Alfie worked the two slick fingers inside of him with no warning. It always took him a moment to acclimatize; he didn’t often find himself on this end of the deal. He let out a sigh as the blunt fingers slipped past the second ring of muscle and he felt himself relax around them. 

 ‘A little impatient?’ 

 Thomas caught himself arching back again, into his touch, taking more of his fingers. 

 ‘Hmm- Not used to not getting what I want,’ he grunted, ‘when I want it.’

 ‘Is that so?’ The sing-song voice was back. The fingers left him. They were quickly replaced by the blunt tip of Alfie’s cock resting against him. As if he was taking measurements. An approving hum followed. Next, the sound of him spitting. He kicked Thomas’ legs further apart and pressed his own knees in the back of Thomas’. 

 The breath was knocked out of Thomas again. He wedged a hand between them to steady himself on Alfie’s thigh. His thick cock filled him slowly. Too slowly. The breath he had remaining came out in a strangled moan. He was blind, his ears were ringing. One cheek against the bricks and the other against Alfie’s beard. He felt a low rumble rise from Alfie’s chest, and felt it against his face as a groan. He fucked him slowly, all the while stroking him. Alfie knotted his right hand in the hair on Thomas’ crown and tugged his head back. 

 ‘If I want Tommy Shelby, I will fucking _have_ him,’ Alfie hissed, though not in an angry way. He sounded pleased with himself. Too pleased. 

 ‘You’re not having him hard enough,’ Thomas teased. He wasn’t sure this was a smart bet, because he didn’t know if he could take much more. To his surprise, Alfie didn’t take that as a challenge. Instead, he came to a halt, still filling Thomas to the hilt.

 ‘Hmm,’ he hummed inquisitively, ‘is that so?’

 Despite not being able to move, Thomas was out of breath. His ribcage expanded as much as it could in the narrow space. It was torture, not being allowed to move. And now not being allowed to come either, apparently. 

 

Alfie let out something between a cough and a grunt and pulled out completely. Thomas’ lip curled up involuntarily. The weight was lifted off him; Alfie sniffed and walked off, leaving him against the wall. Thomas turned around. Alfie sat down behind his desk and turned the chair towards Thomas. It was a sight. No pants, shirt half unbuttoned, white scarf still draped around his neck. He licked his thumb and began stroking his own cock. He did it differently, making circular motions around the head. 

 ‘Come get it yourself then,’ he offered. Thomas pushed himself off the wall and kicked off his shoes along with his trousers. He wasn’t going to bother with his shirt, what with the gun belt and all. ‘’s Not every day you get to fuck royalty, innit?’ Thomas chuckled and took a sip from Alfie’s glass. ‘Your throne,’ he added, spreading his legs wider as he continued to stroke himself. Thomas poured the last of his drink in his mouth and put the glass down. 

 Thomas placed a knee next to Alfie’s thigh and steadied himself on his chest as he brought his other leg up. Straddling him, he took over, and guided the tip of Alfie’s cock inside. He sat back slowly. Alfie sat there and watched. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t reach out to touch him. Thomas lifted his hips and rolled them down again, this time hitting the right angle. He wanted to close his eyes and just get himself off, but he also wanted to see what Alfie did. For now, nothing. They locked eyes, Thomas riding him steadily. Whatever expression Alfie’s beard hid, his eyes gave away. His usually grey irises were almost completely black. Satisfied that what he was doing pleased the man underneath, he gave in and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids were no stars, just deep red pumping. He fell into a rhythm. Rolling his hips back, allowing Alfie to stretch him. With the bitter came the sweet; the tip hit that spot inside of him that knocked his lights out every time. He could hear himself moan, as if it wasn’t him making the sounds. 

 Alfie finally grazed his thigh, then placed his hand firmly on his hip. 

 ‘This how royalty fucks, huh?’ 

 Thomas ignored him. He let his head fall back. Alfie’s hand wrapped around his cock, but let him do the work. It was like breaking in a wild horse; now that it was docile, Thomas could ride it. 

 ‘Shut up, Alfie,’ Thomas sighed. He did. He tightened his grip around Thomas’ cock and gave it a few tentative strokes. ‘ _Hmm_ \- harder,’ Thomas uttered

 ‘Oh, _now_ he wants it harder.’ It always seemed like Alfie was talking to someone else in the room.

 ‘Just fucking do it.’ Thomas placed his hand just below Alfie’s throat and looked him in the eye. ‘I’m getting you off, and you’re gonna fucking make me come,’ he explained. He looked in both eyes separately. It was one of those flashes he would remember amongst all the blurriness. 

 He couldn’t manage a full sentence after that. He was going to regret this in the morning but right now he just needed all of it. Thomas filled himself to the hilt with every thrust. The feeling reached all the way to the back of his throat, and left his mouth dry. This was better than any drink, although the drink probably helped. He closed his mouth to swallow and realized he was shivering, his molars chattered together. He knew he was close. He gritted his teeth. 

 Alfie took that as a cue to steady his face with a firm grip on his jaw, using only his thumb and index finger. He kissed Thomas again, but it was distracting. All things considered, fucking was still the most selfish business Thomas took part in. He had to be selfish to get himself off. It was the rare situation Thomas enjoyed getting stuck in his own head. 

 ‘Thomas- Tommy, look at me, look at me,’ Alfie urged. His breathing was laboured. Thomas reluctantly opened his eyes just enough to look through his lashes. Alfie’s firm grip steadied his face so he could look him in the eye. ‘You like that big cock? Yeah?’ Thomas nodded. He loved a dirty mouth. ‘I want you to fucking come on it, Gypsy King. Fucking come on it or you’ll get me off first and you’ll have to finish yourself,’ he warned. 

 Thomas didn’t need another warning. Shame had gone out the window a while ago. He closed his eyes again and slammed himself down with every thrust. He was grinding down, Alfie filling him, stretching him, all the while keeping a steady stroke on his cock. 

 ‘Ohh- _Fuck_ , Tommy. Fucking do it. Do it-‘ Alfie was babbling. Thomas could barely hear him. He was so close. Three more strokes and he felt his breath catch in his throat. His fingers tangled in Alfie’s beard because it was the closest thing to grab. His other hand held on to Alfie’s broad forearm. He caught a look of anticipation on his brow. It was too much. Thomas let go of the breath he was holding and felt the muscles in his abdomen contract. He let his orgasm wash over him. He clenched down on Alfie’s cock and watched as he came over his chest and shirt. He could hear himself moan, whereas Alfie was closer to shouting. His frown had something of offense. He thrust up as Thomas rode out his climax. He sank back into his chair with a shudder. 

 

Thomas raised himself slightly and sat back on Alfie’s thighs with a groan. He would definitely regret that sooner rather than later. Alfie took a deep breath and leaned his head on the edge of his chair. Thomas reached back over the desk and took his cigarettes and Alfie’s lighter. He ran the cigarette between his lips before lighting it. 

 ‘You can have that,’ Alfie mumbled, nudging his chin up slightly to point to the lighter. He looked sleepy, his eyes barely open.

 ‘I’ll include it in the next contract,’ Thomas chuckled. 

‘D’you want this too?’ He tugged his scarf from behind his neck with one hand. When Thomas didn’t take it, he used it to wipe his chest. ‘Don’t think it’s any good anymore,’ he muttered to himself. Thomas chuckled and wondered if this was a good time to ask for a bigger percentage of their business.

 He got up and walked around the desk to perch his cigarette on the ashtray. There was half a plate of food still left on his side. He picked up his trousers and put them back on, buttoning them properly this time. 

 ‘So, you staying in London tonight?’

 Thomas nodded, sitting down across from the other man again. He had to untie his shoe laces before he could them back on.

 ‘Whereabouts?’

 Alfie showed no intention of getting up or dressed. He seemed quite comfortable. 

 ‘Alfie, don’t pretend you don’t already know where I’m staying or where I had my shoes cleaned before coming here.’ Thomas had to remind himself whose desk he was sitting at. 

 ‘You’re right, mate,’ Alfie agreed. Thomas chuckled and shook his head. He got up from his chair and put on his jacket, making sure his gun was still where he left it. ‘Oh, here,’ Alfie suddenly started. He pulled his chair in and rummaged through the papers on his desk. ‘Need a signature here,’ he pointed out, ‘I could forge it, but since I have you here.’ He tossed Thomas a pen. The verb ‘to have’ had taken on a whole new meaning. 

 Thomas dug his own glasses out of his breast pocket and folded them open to read the document Alfie shoved in his direction.

 ‘Ah, no, _no!_ Don’t kill it now,’ Alfie complained in his signature way. He had a deep frown in his forehead. ‘Those glasses are fucking ridiculous. You look like a damn school teacher, Tommy.’ Alfie looked actually pained.

 Thomas felt a smirk form on his own face. He didn’t reply. He signed the paper, picked up his cigarette and tapped off the ash one last time. He kept his glasses on. 

 ‘See you later tonight, Tommy Shelby.’

 ‘See you next week, Alfie,’ Thomas replied. He put on his cap and walked towards the double glass doors. 

 ‘Just finishing up this paperwork and I’ll be on my way,’ he insisted.

 ‘ _Bye_ , Alfie.’

 


End file.
